Temporal Exigency
by Jaylie12
Summary: Aliens, the Avengers, action, angst, humor, coming home, and the significance of hands. Staine, along with the Avengers. Part of the Catching Time 'verse.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Temporal Exigency (1/8+epilogue)  
Summary: Aliens, the Avengers, action, angst, humor, coming home, and the significance of hands.  
Rating: PG-13/T overall  
Category: Glee, Avengers. Staine.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Various characters from the Avengers appear in the fic. However, I know very little about the Avengers 'verse so any inconsistencies are my own. But do let me know! I'd love to know more about Avengers canon and how I can better fit my stories.

Part of the Catching Time 'verse. Follows Catching Time and Synchronicity. This fic is complete, and I will be posting a part every day or so. It is also posted in entirety on tumblr (jaylie12), if you can't wait. :o)

...

Blaine reached the top of the stairs, the wind from the subway trains tousling his hair, when his phone rang. He tugged it out of his pocket and smiled fondly before touching the screen.

"Steve! I wasn't expecting to hear from you for another couple hours."

"Are you home?"

"Almost," Blaine answered, pressing the phone closer to his ear at Steve's serious tone.

"Blaine, I need you to do something for me."

"Sure, what-."

"Go home, pack a bag, then go to Stark Tower."

Blaine slowed, stopping under the awning of a deli. He looked around at the other pedestrians hurrying about.

"Blaine?" Steve prodded.

"What's going on?" Blaine asked.

"There's no time to explain now. Just go to Stark Tower. You're expected."

"You aren't there?"

"No," Steve said reluctantly. "I have to go. Please do as I ask." When Blaine didn't reply, Steve assured, "I'll be there later. And I will tell you everything."

"Okay," Blaine finally answered.

"Good," Steve breathed out. "Don't take too long. I will see you soon."

"Okay," Blaine repeated. Before he could say anything else, the line went dead.

Blaine stood there, looking at his phone, his brain not comprehending why Steve would tell him to go to his place of work. But the urgency in Steve's tone had ratcheted up Blaine's pulse. With a shake of his head, he resumed his trek home, his pace quickening the closer he got to his apartment.

...

Blaine stared up at the tall building, the bottoms of the large letters spelling STARK just barely visible. He hefted his duffle and school bags higher on his shoulder and adjusted the grip on his guitar case. With a deep breath, he headed toward the large glass and steel doors.

The familiar noise of traffic and hundreds of shoes hitting pavement gave way to the gentle hum of electronic equipment, hushed conversations, and muffled footfalls. Blaine glanced nervously at the men and women dressed in suits, some standing against the walls, others slowly pacing the perimeter of the lobby. Not wanting to linger, Blaine made his way over to what he assumed was the front desk. A woman looked up at him and smiled in greeting.

"How can I help you?"

"Hi," Blaine started awkwardly. "I'm here to see-, well, I was told to come and-," he fumbled.

"Blaine?"

Blaine turned and spied a woman with long red hair walking swiftly toward him, the clicking of her heels echoing in the otherwise subdued lobby. She tapped at the tablet in her hand as she made her way over, looking back up just as she stopped in front of him.

"Yes?" Blaine winced at the uncertainty in his voice. The woman smiled understandingly.

"I'm Pepper Potts. Steve told me you were coming." She tilted her head before turning and walking back the way she came. "Please come with me," she called over her shoulder. Blaine followed without question.

When they stopped at the elevators, Blaine ventured to inquire, "Can you tell me what's going on, Ms. Potts?"

The woman tapped at the tablet in her hand again before looking back up at him.

"Please, call me Pepper. And yes." The elevator doors opened and she stepped in, holding her hand out to keep the doors open. Blaine stepped in and the elevator took them down several floors. When the doors slid open, Blaine's eyes widened at the large amount of workstations occupied by uniformed people outfitted with headsets, and the large screens lining the walls displaying various images, none of which Blaine could decipher.

With a gentle hand on his elbow, Pepper guided him to the side and into a smaller room, filled with a conference table and chairs. Pepper slid her finger across the tablet and a series of images appeared floating above the center of the table.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Pepper invited kindly. Blaine set his guitar on one of the chairs, slid his bags off his shoulder and onto the floor, and sat down.

Pepper sat down next to him and began explaining the images. Aliens. National defense infiltrated. Coordinating with countries worldwide. Aliens. Satellite images. Invasion imminent. The Avengers. The words jumbled together as the images changed, Blaine staring at the flickering videos and images silently.

"Wait, the Avengers?" Blaine blurted out when an image of the group flashed across his view. He looked at Pepper, at her small knowing smile.

"You don't know?" she asked.

"No, I do. I was here last year. They're back?"

"Well, they never really left."

"No, I guess not." Blaine looked back at the image, the telltale red and gold of Iron Man's suit next to the red, white, blue of Captain America's uniform. A man and woman in black stood beside them, and a very large, green, and very muscled man towered behind. "Stark Tower and all," he mused.

"Not just Iron Man," Pepper teased. Blaine cast a curious look her way. Her smile faltered and a sudden weight pressed against his lungs. He had missed something. His gaze traveled back to the picture and he looked closer, the air in his lungs heavy. Blue eyes caught his, blue eyes that he now knew anywhere. And despite the armored uniform, mask, and gloves, the breadth of shoulder, the bulge of muscle on the upper arms, and the angles of the thighs were all too familiar.

Blaine slumped back in his chair, his eyes locked on Captain America-no, Steve. How had he missed it? How Steve dressed in clothes reminiscent of an era long ago, and his manners that Blaine had joked were right out of the past. How he had teased Blaine about stealing his innocence and virtue the day after their first time together. How Steve worried about hurting him with his strength. Their fight about Steve being over-protective. How Blaine thought Steve was holding back, hiding something from him. And all those times Steve had said something that sounded just a bit too formal or old-fashioned.

"Hey," Pepper said gently, laying a hand on Blaine's arm. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

Blaine blinked and tore his gaze from the image, from the truth.

"No, it's-," Blaine trailed off. He swallowed and sucked in a slow breath. "It's fine. Just a lot to take in."

Pepper smiled apologetically.

"Things are fairly quiet right now. Why don't I show you up to Steve's quarters? You can relax. If anything happens, I'll call you on this."

Pepper held her hand out, a small earpiece resting on her palm. Blaine took it, holding it gingerly.

"You'll be able to talk to me too."

...

Blaine stood just inside the room, the quiet hiss of the heavy door slowly closing behind him. He stared at the spaciousness-the floor-to-ceiling windows giving him a sweeping view of the city, the shiny wood flooring, the large flat-panel television facing a set of tan leather couches and armchairs that looked brand new.

He took tentative steps forward, setting his bags and guitar by a sleek glass table, the chairs a matching brown to the couches. He carefully walked around the table, sliding his finger over the tiny earpiece now nestled in his left ear. Pepper had instructed him on how to use it as they ascended in the elevator, and had told him where to go if he heard the evacuation warning. A light flickered on and he froze, the kitchen having lit up at his proximity. The cool steel of the appliances instantly warmed under the soft glow of the overhead lights.

Blaine turned around and walked the length of the room until he came upon another door. With a gentle push, the door slid open. Lights flickered on, revealing a large bed covered in white and tan linens and bedspread. A door at the far end of the room revealed a spacious bathroom. Another door opened into a walk-in closet. Blaine stepped into the small room, soft spotlights highlighting the sparseness. When his gaze slid past a few, familiar plaid shirts, he spied a tall case holding a uniform-Steve's uniform, Captain America's uniform. Blaine looked on, still disbelieving, but he reached out and slid his fingers along the cool fabric. He pressed his palm over the star and closed his eyes. He could feel Steve's heartbeat, could feel the steady rise and fall as he slept, his arm as always, wrapped protectively around Blaine. In that moment, Blaine knew without a doubt that Steve was Captain America; that this man he had met a little over a month ago, who was quiet, contemplative, and sometimes sad held the weight of the world's problems on his shoulders. And while Blaine was sure no one was more capable than Steve of handling said problems, he could not quell the worry that stifled his breathing and had his fingers gripping the fabric beneath them.

Blaine opened his eyes and loosened his hold. He made his way back to the other hanging clothes and carefully pulled a shirt off a hangar. Blue with white and gray plaid, almost like the one Blaine had taken to wearing whenever he was at Steve's place in Brooklyn. He brought it to his nose, breathing deep the familiar scent and letting it calm him. He slipped it on over his own clothes, the too long sleeves comforting.

Blaine left the closet and bedroom, heading for an armchair that faced the wall of windows. As he sat down, pulling his legs up, he bunched the cuffs in his fists and wrapped his arms around his knees. He scanned the city skyline for any movement, anything out of place, anything at all. As the sun sank lower, casting highlights and shadows over the city, Blaine could not help wishing he had known Steve sooner, wondering if he might have spoken to Steve for the last time, and regretting that he never told Steve he loved him.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Temporal Exigency (2/8+epilogue)  
Summary: Aliens, the Avengers, action, angst, humor, coming home, and the significance of hands.  
Rating: PG-13/T overall  
Category: Glee, Avengers. Staine.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am also in no way an expert in anything remotely scientific.  
A/N: This fic is complete, and I will be posting every day or so, but if you can't wait, you can find it on my tumblr (jaylie12). :o)

...

"Sir, I have Ms. Potts."

"Put her through, Jarvis." Two clicks and Tony spoke up again, "Sweetcheeks!"

Bruce's curious expression caught his attention and he turned around, stepping into the hallway.

"No," Pepper replied sternly.

"Dumpling?" Tony suggested.

"No."

"Okay then. How are things looking?"

"All quiet on the eastern front," Pepper answered.

"And we're sure they're coming?"

"Yes," Pepper huffed out. "We verified Fury's intel. Why are you still suspicious of him?"

"It's in my nature," Tony tossed out.

"True," Pepper conceded. "Oh, and one more thing."

"You got him?"

"Yes."

"What's he like? Is he better looking than me? You should send me a picture."

"You sound like my mother."

"She asks if I'm better looking than she is? What do you tell her?"

"That you're a pain in the ass," Pepper snarked back. "And Blaine's wonderful. Quiet. Smart though. I briefed him. He's a bit overwhelmed."

"Well, I can be overwhelming."

"I think it was more Captain America."

"Ah."

"I'll check in when we have something."

With that, the comm clicked off and Tony headed back onto the bridge. He stood at the entrance, watching Bruce mumble to himself as he leaned over the large table and tapped away at his tablet, Fury and Agent Hill in the center looking over the consoles, Natasha and Clint off to the side talking quietly, and Steve sitting straight and silent by Bruce's side. Tony would have thought nothing unusual about Steve's stoic expression except for the nearly imperceptible shift of his jaw and how his fingers gripped nervously at his gloves resting on the table. He made his way over to the man and sat down in the chair beside him. Steve's gaze shifted to him, only to flicker down to his gloves, but Tony did not miss the flash of worry in his usually calm expression.

"Blaine's at Stark Tower," Tony said, keeping his voice casual. Steve let out a breath, but otherwise remained silent. "He's been briefed on the situation."

Steve's attention snapped back to Tony, "You told him?"

"Well, technically, Pepper told him," Tony quipped.

"He doesn't have security clearance."

"Says who?"

"The federal government. The military," Steve supplied.

"Yeah, I don't really care," Tony said with a flick of his hand.

"Why?" Steve asked, his voice suddenly quiet.

"Kid should know what he's getting into," Tony answered.

"Stark."

Tony looked at Steve then, really looked at the blue eyes not piercing him with their usual consternation but with desperation. He leaned back in his chair. He knew what it was like to keep a secret; knew what it was like when that secret was no longer his, when it was forced out before he was ready.

"He didn't know," Tony said, letting his hand fall heavy on the table. Steve merely looked away from Tony's guilt, swiped his gloves off the table, and stood.

"He didn't know," Steve repeated quietly before turning and disappearing down the hall.

...

Steve passed agents along the halls, striding past with only a polite nod as he made his way through the flying aircraft. He paid little attention to where he was going until the hallways ended, forcing him to turn around and duck into the first unlocked door he could find. Darkness surrounded him when he closed the door, and he leaned against it heavily, taking a deep breath.

He silently cursed Tony for convincing him to call Blaine in the first place. The other man had played on his weakness, had convinced him with logic that Steve would not be distracted with worry for his boyfriend if Blaine was safe at Stark Tower. Steve huffed. Boyfriend. Boyfriends. Was that what he and Blaine were? They had yet to actually label their relationship, the reluctance on Steve's part stemming from all the things he had yet to tell Blaine. And now Tony had taken care of that. Loathe to admit it, Steve was the tiniest bit relieved that it was done. Tony had saved him from looking Blaine in the eye when he told him his secrets, shared all the lies he had told; saved him from seeing the hurt in the younger man's eyes. But Tony had also taken away his chance to tell Blaine in his own way, his chance to comfort Blaine or allow Blaine to rant at him, maybe even his chance to say goodbye. Who knew if Blaine would even be there when this was all over?

Klaxons sliced through the hum of machinery, and the comm burst to life.

"We've got six ships incoming," Fury's voice crackled through Steve's earpiece. "Everyone to their stations."

With a shake of his head and a deep breath, Steve opened the door and marched back down the hall.

...

"Cap, good to see you," Natasha greeted as she checked her weapons. Steve hefted his shield and nodded, stepping further into the shuttle just as the bay doors started to close. Clint fired up the engines and maneuvered them out of the bay, several planes falling into formation around them. Natasha slid into the seat beside Clint. Bruce and Steve looked out the window at the growing city skyline.

"You okay?" Bruce asked quietly, watching the trail of smoke in the wake of Tony's trajectory past their shuttle.

"I'm fine, doctor," Steve replied, his eyes not leaving the darkening sky.

"He might be intelligent, but he does tend to forget his decisions affect other people's lives."

"You don't have to defend him."

"Oh, I'm not. But he'd hate it if I was, wouldn't he?"

Steve glanced at Bruce, saw the other man's barely-there smirk.

"Yes he would," Steve agreed, his expression relaxing.

A projectile whirred past their field of view, Steve and Bruce ducking instinctively. The missile hit one of the planes to their left, causing it to careen off course as flames licked the tail. Clint steered the shuttle clear and swooped low, deftly flying between the buildings.

"Faster than we thought," Bruce muttered as they passed Wall Street.

"And more of them," Natasha added. Just then dozens of small planes spilled from the larger ships.

"Leave them for the fighters. We have to get to the ships," Steve directed, Clint already flying them toward the closest one.

They could just make out the glint of Tony's Iron Man suit near the second one before it disappeared. A moment later, a light pulsed from within the ship and engulfed the aft section. The massive ship dipped off course and just cleared the buildings to crash into the East River, water sloshing around the hulking metal as it rocked at the impact. Tony appeared alongside them.

"Go for the jugular," Tony's voice sounded through the comm. "There's a weak spot just under the front armor." With that, Tony sped away toward the other four ships, seemingly hovering over midtown.

"I'll take this one," Bruce offered.

"You sure?" Natasha asked over her shoulder.

"Best chance of surviving a crash if I can't get out," Bruce answered with a shrug. Clint swooped low, dodging a couple fighters, and swung around. Before the hatch was fully open, Bruce took off and launched himself forward, morphing into the Hulk in mid-air and grabbing onto the protruding metal on the underside of the ship.

"Cap, we've got movement on the ground."

Steve leaned over Natasha's chair, squinting at the flashes of light dotting midtown. Planes sped past, engaging the alien fighters. Gunfire and explosions rumbled around them. Clint flew them lower, approaching one of the alien ships hovering over the Chrysler Building.

"The evacuation order?"

"Fury had the Mayor issue a warning for everyone to stay inside and underground if possible," Natasha answered.

"Looks like some people didn't get the message," Clint commented.

"Or didn't care," Natasha muttered.

"Can you drop us off there?" Steve pointed at the Empire State Building. "Looks like the aliens are keeping to midtown. Natasha and I will help keep them back." Steve tapped the comm in his ear. "Fury, move the troops to 57th and 23rd-keep the situation contained."

"They're almost there," Fury replied. "Stark, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Just then, their shuttle jolted and veered off course, alarms beeping and buttons flashing. Static crackled over the comm. Steve steadied himself against the bulkhead as they rapidly lost altitude and skyscrapers blurred around them. Natasha scanned the dials and meters, pressing buttons here and there, as Clint wrestled with the controls, unsteadily leveling the shuttle off just meters from the ground. Natasha flipped several switches and sat back in her chair with a sigh.

"What happened?" Steve asked.

"Lost navigation," Clint answered. He leaned over to the side console. "Telemetry, sensors, environmental control," he listed before concluding, "everything electrical."

"Might as well see what's going on outside," Natasha suggested as she craned her neck to look out the window. Clint released the bay door and the three stepped out of the shuttle.

There was minimal activity on the ground, several groups of pedestrians hurrying down the street. But planes flew by above in haphazard patterns. Two crashed into nearby buildings, the collision shaking the surrounding buildings. The alien fighters deftly dodged the other aircraft, clearly not affected by any malfunctions. They could only make out two of the large ships—the one over the Chrysler Building and another that had descended above the Empire State Building. Fighters and alien troops continued to spill from the ships, circling the two buildings, firing at the windows, and flooding into the upper floors. The lights flickered within both buildings.

"What are they doing?" Steve asked more to himself than the others.

"I might have an idea," Stark answered, descending behind the trio to land clumsily. "Comm down? Anything electrical just died?" Stark asked as he paced around the group. Clint nodded slightly. "They're going after the energy grid."

"Knocking out power to Manhattan?" Steve questioned.

"More like siphoning it."

"Sir, if I may?" Jarvis chirped up. Steve quirked an eyebrow in curiosity.

"We've got an independent back-up," Tony explained. "Put it up Jarvis."

When Tony lifted his arm, a small hologram of the city and the four remaining alien ships appeared over the armor at his wrist.

"They've targeted the tallest buildings in Manhattan," Natasha observed.

"And all of them powered by the Arc reactor," Tony supplied.

"So, they're taking over the power systems to do what?" Steve asked.

The hologram shifted, circles undulating out from the four ships and merging to form a larger gridded dome over midtown.

"Sir, I believe they are creating an electrical field. And it is expanding."

"What will that do?" Steve asked, feeling the adrenaline flood his body.

"Act like an EM pulse," Tony provided grimly. "It will short anything electrical within its reach. And Stark Tower's at the very center."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Temporal Exigency (3/8+epilogue)

A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone. Don't forget, I will be posting every day or so, but if you can't wait, you can find the entire fic on my tumblr (jaylie12). :o)

...

Blaine saw them before he realized what they were, six massive sharp-edged shadows in the dusky night. It wasn't until the black dots swarming around them morphed into oddly shaped planes and screeched across the sky that Blaine scrambled off the couch, clutching nervously at Steve's shirt cuffs still bunched at his wrists and stumbling backwards until his back hit the door.

This was nothing like the movies—well, it was like the movies with planes now firing at each other, the dull roar of engines overhead, and explosions reverberating through the building and down his spine—but the paralyzing fear was something he hadn't expected as he stood barely breathing and eyes wide.

"Evacuation protocol three," an artificial voice—Jarvis—said over the comm. Blaine started at the sound, the tiny earpiece forgotten until now.

"Blaine," Pepper's voice followed. "Blaine?" she repeated after a beat.

Blaine swallowed, eyes still darting around the scene playing out through the large windows.

"I'm here," Blaine said, voice rough and barely there. Pepper sighed in relief.

"Ms. Potts, Mr. Anderson's heart rate is elevated well above acceptable limits and his breathing is shallow," Jarvis said. Blaine's hand splayed across his chest as if to hold him upright.

"Blaine, are you hurt?"

"No," Blaine replied, cringing at his breathlessness.

"Good," Pepper said kindly. "Just take a deep breath okay? Can you make it back down to command?"

Blaine tore his gaze from the windows and took a deep breath. Focusing on how the warm plaid pattern of Steve's shirt contrasted with his cool, trembling hand, he swallowed and straightened.

"Yes," he said steadily.

"I'll see you soon," Pepper said.

Blaine took another deep breath, feeling his heartbeat under his fingers slow. A flash of Steve's face when he blinked was the final push he needed, and he was out the door the next second.

…..

"We've got you all patched in now," Pepper said, tapping a few more times on her tablet and looking at one of the screens mounted on the wall. Staff still sat at various stations around her.

"What's the status?" Stark's voice came over the speakers.

"Levels 40 through 50 have been compromised. Lockdown protocols have been initiated for those levels. Personnel have been evacuated to medical and command floors. Six minor injuries reported."

"Thank you, Jarvis," Pepper said, scanning the blueprints displayed on the screen. "Are you sure shutting down the system will work?"

"It will get us back to a more level playing field," Tony answered.

"Then you've got to pull at least two relays otherwise the failsafe will kick in," Pepper said. "And we're not going to last long on our back-up."

"Have Fury move the troops to a safe distance around the buildings," Steve spoke up. Pepper nodded at a uniformed woman, who tapped her comm and quietly relayed the message to Fury's ship.

"Once we disconnect the arc reactor, they can make their move," Tony added.

"Ms. Potts, evacuation protocol three is complete. However, we have intrusion on levels 20 and above now," Jarvis informed.

"Didn't I say they move fast?" Clint interjected.

"Too fast," Natasha agreed.

"Pepper, start the shutdown protocol. We'll get the relays," Tony instructed.

Pepper looked back down at her tablet and tapped at the controls. A moment later Jarvis' voice played over the hum of computers announcing "evacuation protocol four." Pepper looked back up at the screens.

"Jarvis, let's start—."

"Ms. Potts?"

"Steve?"

"Is Blaine there?"

Pepper turned to scan the room, but before she could answer, Blaine spoke up from where he stood by the doors.

"I'm here."

Pepper offered Blaine a small smile as she walked up to him. She pressed a button on her tablet.

"I've switched you to a private channel," she said quietly. Blaine nodded gratefully and she turned, going back to the screens and calling for Jarvis.

"Steve?" Blaine prompted nervously, ducking his head.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Blaine answered evenly, his heartbeat still racing.

"Listen to everything Ms. Potts tells you."

"I'm not a child," Blaine countered, exasperation edging his tone.

"I know," Steve said earnestly after a beat. "I just want you to be safe."

The tension lessened in Blaine's shoulders at Steve's words.

"You're the one out there," Blaine pointed out. When Steve didn't answer, Blaine continued, "Be careful. Come home."

"To you?" Steve asked quietly.

Blaine sighed, lips lifting in a small smile, and confirmed, "To me."

…..

The trip down to command had been long and uneventful, various security personnel herding people down the dozens of flights of stairs. The stairwell muffled the sounds of battle, but not the pounding and shaking of explosive concussions. Blaine had focused on his steps, vaguely aware of more people joining their descent the further they went, until the flow of people spewed onto the lobby floor. Blaine followed the crowd to another stairwell and no one had questioned him when he veered off at sublevel 2 while everyone else continued down to the lower levels.

Now, standing at the back of the command room and waiting to hear if the Avengers made it to the relay locations, it was anything but uneventful. One screen displayed muted television reports—footage of the city from what looked like Liberty State Park in New Jersey and another from a particularly daring helicopter pilot and cameraperson who circled the aerial fighting. Another screen was a collage of Stark Tower's security cameras—aliens filling floor after floor, firing at locked doors and dropping explosives down elevator shafts and stairwells. Another screen held some sort of blueprints overlaid with faint outlines of buildings.

Explosions and weapons fire echoed from above and shook the room, jarring the equipment and causing the images to wobble on screen every few seconds.

"Have we got everyone, Jarvis?" Pepper asked from her position on the floor, crouched by an open wall panel.

"Everyone accounted for, Ms. Potts. Three more minor injuries and one fatality reported. We have intruders on sublevel 1."

Pepper took a deep breath and stood.

"Okay, everyone," Pepper said to the few uniformed people still sitting at workstations. The majority had already been evacuated. "I want the rest of you down in medical. I'll finish up the shutdown and see you there."

She looked pointedly at the remaining personnel, who stood, readying their weapons, and started making their way to the door. Spying Blaine, she followed them through the room.

"You too, Blaine," Pepper ordered, coming to a stop at the open door. The others moved cautiously but quickly along the corridor.

Blaine wanted to protest, but before he had the chance, an explosion rocked them. They ducked as debris rained down on them and gunfire echoed sharply down the hall. Blaine caught a glimpse of black armor, strange looking rifles, and collapsed bodies before Pepper pulled him away from the door and slammed her hand against the console. The doors slid shut with a hiss and the lock engaged with a loud click.

"Jarvis!" Pepper yelled over a new wave of gunfire as she slid down the wall. Blaine crouched with her as bullets impacted the shatter proof glass of the doors. Large heavy panels covered his view, locking into place on the other side of the doors and muffling the continued impact of weapons fire.

Blaine breathed a relieved sigh and leaned against the wall. He looked at Pepper, taking in her pale complexion, heavy-lidded eyes, and agonized expression. His breathing hitched as his eyes slid down her slumped body, fear making his heart beat wildly. Blaine felt the world tilting as his gaze fell on Pepper's hands clutching at her abdomen, fingers so delicate under the red seeping over them and staining her white shirt.

"Blaine," Pepper rasped out, pulling his gaze from her wound. Wide eyes met dull ones. "Breathe," she instructed with a weak but amused huff.

Blaine took a deep breath, willing his heart rate to slow and his panic to subside.

"Okay," Blaine said. He took another deep breath. "Okay," he repeated before finally moving. He helped Pepper lay down, wincing when she gave an agonized moan. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Jarvis," Pepper called weakly. "Walk Blaine through the shutdown."

"No, wait," Blaine protested, his hands hovering over her stomach. "We have to get you help."

"If we don't complete the shutdown," Pepper countered around shallow breaths, "and they pull the relays, we could be destroying midtown. The explosions could take out a 10-block radius around each building."

Blaine's mind swirled with everything as he stared at the blood still seeping out of Pepper's wound. When she shifted and with a groan, started to sit up, Blaine pushed her gently back down.

"No, stay still," Blaine ordered, his mind suddenly focused. He hastily tugged the plaid shirt off, balled it up, and settled it under Pepper's hands against her wound. She winced at the pressure, but kept her hands there. "Jarvis, what are Pepper's vitals?"

"Pulse is 121, blood pressure is 78 over 45, and oxygen at 82%."

"None of that sounds good," Blaine muttered.

"My readings are well beyond acceptable limits, sir."

"The shutdown," Pepper protested slowly, her eyes nearly closed.

"We'll get to it," Blaine assured. "Jarvis, do we have any medical supplies?"

A panel slid open on the far wall and Blaine hurried to retrieve the case. He returned to Pepper's side and opened the kit.

"Do you know anything about gunshot wounds?"

"I have access to several volumes of medical texts," Jarvis answered.

"Good, I should try to slow the bleeding, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Anderson."

Blaine grabbed several rolls of bandages and set about carefully wrapping it around Pepper's abdomen. She gasped in pain when he slid his hands under her. Blaine stifled his apologies and kept his jostling to a minimum and tried to work quickly. Not daring to examine the wound closely, he kept the now stained plaid shirt in place as he tied off the bandage.

"Can I give her something for the pain?" Blaine asked.

"Each kit comes with a standard dose of morphine," Jarvis supplied.

Blaine looked through the contents, finding a small packet and a bottle of water. Opening the bottle, he gulped down half, then tore open the packet and mixed the powder in the remaining water. Lifting Pepper's head with a supporting hand at her neck, Blaine held the bottle as Pepper sipped slowly from it. When the water was gone, Blaine settled Pepper back down and wiped her hands with a makeshift sling from the first aid kit.

"Shutdown," Pepper whispered tiredly, her fingers curling weakly around his.

"Sir, Ms. Potts' vitals are slightly improved."

"Thank you, Jarvis." Blaine leaned down, kissed Pepper's forehead, and squeezed her fingers back. "Now, let's get to that shutdown."


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Temporal Exigency (4/8+epilogue)

A/N: I missed posting yesterday, because, well Glee. So, my lovelies, have two parts. :o)

...

"Where are the relays?" Steve asked as he ducked back out of the shuttle. With the EM grid in place above them, the remaining fighter planes had retreated to a safe distance. The city was eerily quiet, save for the occasional explosion that sounded and the creak of downed aircraft collapsing into rubble. Tony turned to Steve, helmet in hand and smirk firmly in place. Clint and Natasha stood beside him.

"How's the love munchkin?" Tony quipped.

"What?" Steve asked suspiciously.

"The wee warbler?"

"How did you-?"

"I looked him up," Tony cut in casually.

"You looked him up?" Steve asked, stepping closer to Tony and glaring at him.

"Investigated, inquired about, researched, stop me when you get it," Tony answered. "Or not," Tony added wryly after a beat.

"You investigated him?"

"Had to see if he was worthy of Captain America, didn't I?"

"Stark," Steve admonished sternly, stepping closer. Tony held the other man's gaze before lifting a hand and clumsily flicking imaginary dust off Steve's shoulder. Steve swatted his arm away.

"Oh, relax Cap. He's a good kid-got good grades, won a bunch of awards for his singing and other snooty endeavors. Had a spot of trouble back in 9th grade, but he seems to have recovered nicely."

Steve continued to glare at him, his annoyance with the other man clear on his expression.

"Why don't we get back to the matter at hand?" Natasha interjected, breaking the tense silence.

"Right," Steve agreed, eyes flickering to hers. "I ask again, where are the relays?"

"In the East River," Tony answered quickly.

"How 'in' are we talking?" Clint asked.

"Only about 100 feet down."

"Only?" Steve shot back.

"Yep," Tony replied glibly. "We better get a move on." With that, Tony engaged his thrusters and rose up several feet. "Head east to the ferry terminal, pier 11. I'll meet you there."

Tony shoved his helmet back on and took off. Steve turned back toward the shuttle, but Natasha grabbed his arm.

"No way to start that thing as long as the grid's up."

"On foot, then," Steve said with a nod as he shifted his shield more securely on his forearm.

"On foot," Clint agreed. The three took off down the deserted street.

"Bet you aren't too happy about me beating you on the treadmill right now," Natasha tossed over her shoulder at Clint as they reached the pier.

"I'm fine with letting you beat me on the treadmill," Clint snarked back breathlessly.

Steve scanned the still water and turned around, only able to see the large ship hovering over the Chrysler Building now. The pier was only five blocks from the shuttle, but the sounds of gunfire and explosions had dimmed to almost nothing. The ground shook suddenly, unsteadying all of them as the pounding repeated over and over, increasing in intensity.

"Like that damn dinosaur movie," Clint muttered. Steve stared blankly at him. "Jurassic Park. Came out in the 90s," Clint explained. "You haven't seen it yet?"

In lieu of answering, Steve turned back toward the city, crouched and shield held ready as the pounding grew closer. He squinted at the quiet streets, the dark of night shrouding the buildings. A moment later, he straightened and breathed a sigh of relief as Bruce appeared around the last building and came bounding across FDR Drive. Tony followed, flying above the green hulking man.

"Look who I found," Tony said proudly as he landed before them. Bruce patted Tony on the helmet and smiled awkwardly. Tony visibly wavered under the gesture. "Easy, big guy." Bruce grumbled in response.

"Intel's correct," Tony spoke up again. "We've got the remaining ships positioned over the Chrysler Building, the Empire State Building, and the New York Times Building."

"And Stark Tower," Natasha added grimly.

"There's a relay just under the pier here. Follow the insulated cable pipe all the way down," Tony explained. Before anyone could ask, he continued, "It'll level off. Relay's about a foot long, a tube inside a tube. You'll see it."

"Where's the other one?" Steve asked.

"Down by the Midtown Skyport, 23rd. I'll get that one," Tony answered. Tony tapped the keypad on his wrist.

"Pepper, how's the shutdown going."

The comm remained silent. Tony tore off his helmet.

"Pepper?" Tony prompted, all pretense gone. Steve and the others moved closer. "Jarvis, we still linked?"

"Yes, sir. However, Ms. Potts is currently incapacitated."

"Incapacitated how?"

"Ms. Potts sustained a gunshot wound, lower left quadrant with significant blood loss. Mr. Anderson was able to stem the bleeding and stabilize her vitals. She is resting and I continue to monitor her lifesigns, but she is in need of further medical attention."

"Blaine's there?" Steve asked, his fingers curling into fists at the rising tension. "Where are they?"

"Ms. Potts and Mr. Anderson are in the control room. Mr. Anderson is assisting me with the shutdown. I have initiated lockdown protocol seven. Intruders are attempting to enter the room."

"Is there another way out?" Steve asked, pointedly looking at Tony. Tony remained silent, the answer clearly displayed on his expression.

"What about the shutdown?" Natasha asked.

"Forget the shutdown," Steve countered.

"We need to shut that grid down," Tony argued, voice strained but determined.

"You willing to sacrifice her?"

Hurt flashed in Tony's eyes before he blinked it away.

"She knew what she was getting into."

"He didn't. And if there's a way for them to get out before the aliens break down the door, they need to take it."

"First the shutdown, then we can worry about getting them out," Tony persisted.

"There isn't enough time!" Steve yelled. The silence that followed lay between them like an impenetrable fog. Steve turned away from the others, gulping several deep breaths to calm himself; he more than anyone startled by his outburst. Natasha laid a gentle hand on his arm and he dropped his head.

"Steve?" Blaine's voice came over the comm.

"Blaine," Steve breathed out, lifting his head. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the others' expressions.

"We need to shut the system down," Blaine said earnestly.

"You need to get out of there," Steve protested, the plea echoing in his mind.

"We're almost done," Blaine insisted.

"Blaine-."

"I won't be responsible for destroying part of New York City," Blaine cut in. "You wouldn't want to be either. I can do it," he asserted quietly.

Steve swallowed but no words came.

"Mr. Stark," Blaine spoke up again. "Tell me what else I need to do."

"Right," Tony said, ignoring Steve's sudden silence. "Jarvis, light up the panel. As soon as the shutdown is complete, walk him through the disconnect process. We'll be in position to pull the relays."

"Yes, sir," Jarvis agreed.

"Cap." Tony came around to face Steve. "You're the best one to get down there. How long can you hold your breath?"

"Long enough," Steve said dully.

"Good. When the disconnect is complete, the relays will start to flash. Pull it and get back up here." Tony slid his helmet on and took off.

"You sure you can get down there?" Natasha asked.

"We don't have another choice," Steve said grimly.

"Well," Clint spoke up as he reached back and pulled an arrow from his sheath. "At least we can make sure you get back up here." He disconnected a reel of steel cord from the arrow and affixed it to Steve's belt.

Steve nodded his thanks, handed Bruce his shield, and stepped up to the edge of the pier. The others looked on as he made his way over the concrete barrier, scaled down the low wall, scrambled over the rocks, and sunk into the water.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Temporal Exigency (5/8+epilogue)

...

"Finished," Blaine called out from under the wall console as he unplugged the last of several thick wires. The lights on the console flickered and dimmed.

"Well done, Mr. Anderson."

"Jarvis, please call me Blaine."

"Very well, sir."

"Blaine."

"Yes, sir."

Blaine huffed in amusement before quickly sobering.

"What's next?" Blaine asked, sliding out and sitting up. Gunfire thudded against the heavy metal doors.

"The system will need 20 minutes for any residual current to dissipate before the final capacitor may be disconnected."

Blaine looked at Pepper still lying on the floor; saw the tremor in her chest as she breathed in.

"We don't have 20 minutes, Jarvis."

"I am aware."

"What happens if I pull it now?"

"You will likely cause a cascade failure that could very well damage the independent system."

"What does that mean?" Blaine asked, though he had a good idea of the answer.

"It will shut down all operations in the control room."

"And possibly you," Blaine added bleakly, his eyes still on Pepper.

"Yes, sir, and me."

The pounding on the door ceased, only to be replaced by a loud blast that shook the room. Blaine eyed the doors, denting under the stress of the explosion.

"I think we're going to have to risk it."

"I concur."

"Well," Blaine started as he stood up, "point me in the right direction."

Another console slid out from the wall a few feet from the original. Blaine hastened to it and crouched to unplug the wires as he had done with the previous console.

"Sir, I must warn you that the residual current could cause an electrical surge when you remove the capacitor."

"I could electrocute myself?"

"It is a possibility."

"Great," Blaine muttered sarcastically. He dropped the last disconnected cord. "Ready, Jarvis?"

"As much as I will ever be, sir."

"It's Blaine, Jarvis," Blaine said as he twisted the rod-shaped component.

"Blaine," Jarvis said, causing him to pause.

"Yes?" Blaine prompted, looking up.

"Good luck."

"Thank you. You too." With that, Blaine pulled the capacitor out of its slot. A flash of light erupted from the panel, sending heat through Blaine's hands all the way up his arms. He fell back, dropping the capacitor, as all the lights extinguished and the whirring of equipment silenced.

...

Despite the thick material of his suit, Steve felt the chill of the water sidling along his limbs. Steve blinked, the dark water swirling around him doing nothing to aid his vision. However, the dim glow of the optic cable shimmered along the riverbed and Steve shifted course to follow its path.

As he swam deeper, images stirred in his memory-visions of battles fought and people long gone. And as the cold slowly infiltrated his limbs, memories of a body paralyzed, a mind fighting against a silenced voice, and pain surfaced.

_There isn't enough time._ His voice echoed in his mind, as a soundtrack to the stilted film playing before him-nearly blinding him when Blaine's face flashed by.

_There isn't enough time._

Steve reached out for the cable and kicked harder, swam faster. But the images persisted, intermingling and sending Steve's heart racing as Blaine's pale and lifeless face appeared on the body of a fallen soldier.

_There isn't enough time._

His chest tightened, lungs protesting the lack of air.

_Come home to me._ Blaine's steady voice dissipated his own and muddled the images, causing Steve's pace to falter.

New images surfaced-Blaine's smile when Steve surprised him with flowers on their third date, Blaine's curls the first time he left them unstyled, and Blaine lying in Steve's bed covered in nothing but Steve's worn plaid shirt.

_Come home to me._

Steve surged forward with renewed energy, swimming swiftly through the currents and feeling the chill recede.

...

"Stark, you there yet?" Natasha asked as she watched the thin cord slide through Clint's careful grasp.

"Just about. How's Captain Crankipants?"

"Still moving," Clint answered with a resigned shake of his head.

"I'm going to need to buy that kid a decent bottle of red," Tony said a moment later.

"He did it?" Natasha inquired.

"Yep. You think he might want to join up?"

"I think Steve might have something to say about that."

"Not really his call."

"You know he can hear you, right?" Natasha asked pointedly.

"That's kind of the point."

Bruce turned his head and grumbled loudly. Natasha offered a knowing look.

"What was that? I don't understand hulk speak."

"Stark," Natasha warned. Clint tugged on the cord and looked at Natasha. "Steve's there," she said.

Clint held the cord taut, waiting for Steve to reverse course. It didn't take long. The cord went slack and Clint quickly began reeling it back in as Steve made his ascent.

"Something's happened," Clint said as the cord jerked in his hands a moment later. He regained his hold and braced himself against the concrete wall, pulling hard. Bruce positioned himself behind Clint and, with Natasha's help, wrapped the cord around his hands so that he could pull as well. Natasha jumped over the wall and slipped down to the rocks, anxiously scanning the water and tugging on the rope when she could.

"Got him!" Natasha shouted as soon as she saw the ripples. She waded into the water when Steve's prone body bobbed to the surface, pulling him to shore and kneeling beside him. She immediately checked his breathing and pulse.

"Nat?" Clint called down to her as she started CPR. A low whine rumbled from Bruce.

Natasha ignored them, focusing on applying the correct pressure to Steve's chest. The men waited silently as she breathed for Steve.

Three breath and compression cycles later, Steve was sputtering and coughing. Natasha helped him to his side, and up when he'd taken several ragged breaths.

"Thanks," Steve rasped out, arms resting tiredly atop his knees.

"I always thought you'd be conscious if I ever got to do that," she joked with a smirk. Steve huffed a laugh, which turned into a cough.

"Did I miss the fun?" Tony asked, landing behind them.

"Just me and Cap professing our undying love," Natasha deadpanned.

"I'm touched," Tony snarked. "Did you get it?"

Steve sat up, pulling the relay from his belt and waving it at Tony.

"Good." Tony grabbed the relay and stowed it in a compartment in his suit. He then stooped and hefted Steve into his arms. Before Steve could protest, Tony was upright and tilting his head at Natasha. She grabbed Tony's shoulder and hooked a leg around his.

"Hang on," Tony advised as he lifted off, carefully hovering up and over the wall to land next to Bruce and Clint. Natasha let go and dusted her uniform off. Tony unceremoniously let go of Steve, who found his footing and scowled at the iron-suited man.

"Was that necessary?"

"Well, I wouldn't want you to exert yourself too much, what with your age and all."

"Stark, the EM grid is down," Fury called through the comm. "Fighters are engaged, and troops have secured the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings. We've almost got the New York Times Building."

"That was fast," Clint commented.

"Has the enemy surrendered?" Steve inquired, voice still hoarse.

"Not exactly," Fury hedged.

"What does that mean?" Steve demanded.

"They've retreated from all the buildings except one. Reports indicate they're converging on Stark Tower."


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Temporal Exigency (6/8+epilogue)

...

Blaine winced at the incessant pounding ricocheting in his brain. With a groan, he forced his eyes open. The shadowed ceiling slid in and out of focus, and Blaine blinked slowly to regain his bearings. He lifted his hand to his head only to cry out at the contact.

Blaine sat up slowly, the room pitching. Closing his eyes, he breathed slowly, letting his balance level off and the surge of nausea subside. After a moment, he risked opening his eyes again. When the room came into focus, Blaine sighed with relief. Dim lights near the floor filled the room with a hazy glow and cast long shadows on the walls.

The throbbing no longer sounded in his mind, but rather, in tandem with the tremors shaking the doors from repetitive concussive impacts. The lights flickered with a particular loud blast. A dull ache remained at the back of his head.

"Blaine?" Pepper called weakly.

"I'm coming," Blaine replied, voice barely there. He cleared his throat and repeated, louder, "I'm coming."

Hissing and gritting his teeth against the pain, Blaine pushed himself off the floor and gradually clamored to his feet. He wavered where he stood and braced himself on a workstation, stifling another pained cry. Carefully making his way over to Pepper, he took in the dark room and the silent computers. Reaching her, Blaine slid down the wall and got his legs under him. The emergency lighting offered little help in checking on Pepper's wound, but the dark stain on the bandages told him enough.

"How are you feeling?" Blaine asked when Pepper looked at him under heavy eyelids.

"Oh, I've been better," Pepper joked feebly.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed grimly, brushing his fingers along Pepper's temple. He winced at the pain.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Blaine dismissed. He pressed the back of his hand against her clammy cheek, ignoring the pain that sparked at every movement of his fingers. Pepper closed her eyes. The hammering on the door continued.

"Is there another way out of here?" Blaine asked tentatively.

"Yes. But we can't get out without disengaging the lockdown," Pepper explained tiredly.

"Could we unlock the door quick enough to get out and lock it again?" Blaine inquired hopefully. "Do you think you can move? I can help."

"We need Jarvis," Pepper said, voice barely there.

"Jarvis?" Blaine asked the room. No response came. "Jarvis?" Blaine let out a slow breath.

"We don't know what's out there," Pepper reasoned, lifting her hand. Blaine gingerly took it in his own hand. "The doors are still engaged. That means there's still power left."

"For how long?"

"I have no idea."

Blaine slumped awkwardly to the floor, lying sideways and settling their hands comfortably over Pepper's heart as he rested his head next to hers.

"You did it," Pepper whispered. "You've been amazing, Blaine."

"I learned from the best," Blaine whispered back. Pepper's lips quirked into a brief smile.

They lapsed into silence and as they lay there, waiting for the unknown, Blaine let his mind wander. He had been on his own since he left home six years ago, longer if you counted boarding school, and had quickly learned how to take care of himself and be self-sufficient. He had even argued with Steve about standing up for himself and fighting his own battles. But right now, as the continuing barrage of gunfire propelled time forward, Blaine wanted nothing more than for Steve to come rescue him.

...

Steve moved first, grabbing his shield from Bruce's loose grip and running back across FDR Drive before he heard Tony above him and felt the ground shaking with Bruce's footfalls.

"Get on," Tony said, lowering himself alongside Steve. Steve jumped, grabbing onto the suit around the shoulders. He looked back at Bruce lumbering behind them, Clint and Natasha held loosely in his large, green fists. Steve focused his attention forward as Tony rose up and, leaning forward, increased speed. Steve breathed deep, his lungs and throat still burning from his time in the East River.

They flew past quiet buildings and over empty streets, stopping short just as Stark Tower came into view. Three of the large ships filled what they could see of the night sky. Tony flew higher and they spied the fourth ship, bleeding smoke from all sides and tilting into a nearby high-rise. The ship's hull groaned and buckled under the slow impact. Fighters, both human and alien, streaked past in pursuit or crashed into concrete and steel. Aliens hung from broken windows and balconies, climbing up and down the walls as if the tower was merely an anthill.

Steve hefted his shield in front of them when a fighter came too close and Tony shot it down. He aimed a few shots at another two alien fighters flying past.

"There must be a couple thousand," Steve assessed.

"Several thousand," Tony corrected, pointing at ground level where armored aliens flooded the streets and swarmed around the building. Bruce ran full tilt into the crowd below them, swinging his arms wildly and leaving crumpled bodies in his wake. Natasha and Clint stood atop a car parked on the street, arrows and bullets creating a circle of slumped figures around them.

"What do you think, Cap?" Tony asked as he dodged more fighters and flew higher.

"To risky taking out the rest of the ships here. They've already caused too much damage," Steve noted. "Odds are slim with a ground assault, but that's our best bet."

Tony nodded and took off around the building.

"Fury," Steve prompted. "You got troops heading this way?"

"Yes, the New York Times Building is secure. We're sending them from all three locations."

"So, they've got the north and east. Nat, Clint, you heard that?"

"Copy," Natasha yelled into the comm.

"Might not be anyone left when they get here though," Clint remarked casually.

"We'll take the south and west sides," Steve announced, though Tony was already descending toward the south, to the sidewalk in front of the main entrance to Stark Tower.

"Fury, if those ships start retreating, give them everything you got."

"You can count on it, Captain."

Steve jumped and landed in a crouch when Tony was a few feet from the ground. Masked, armored aliens immediately surrounded him and he swung his shield out, knocking two of them down. He stood, ducking another alien's lunge, and grabbed at a fourth's weapon, wrenching it away and crippling him with a blow to the head.

Tony landed behind him, firing shots in all directions and downing several aliens.

"Seems we're drawing a crowd," Steve said as he chanced a glance around. Some of the aliens had moved from hastening toward the building, to converging on them.

"Aw, look, we're famous," Tony quipped.

Steve shoved aside an alien and took hold of another when it ran at him, lifting it and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground.

"We better put on a show then," Tony commented glibly.

"Duck," Steve called out as he flung his shield. It arced through the crowd, felling aliens in its wake. Tony ducked easily, all the while shooting at the dense crowd of aliens. Steve easily caught the shield, allowing the momentum to carry him around and take out several more aliens.

"Show off," Tony muttered half-heartedly.

"You must be rubbing off on me," Steve countered as he deflected a shower of gunfire, the bullets ricocheting off his shield hitting the surrounding aliens. Stark kept shooting.

"Is this you trying to make a joke?"

"At your expense? Sure, why not," Steve shot back.

"Grandpa actually remembered how to be funny. What, you learn that from your pint-sized Pavarotti?" Tony retorted, lifting off and blasting several aliens to the ground.

"You just have to get the last word in, don't you?"

Steve took hold of two aliens and used them to shield against a spray of projectiles.

"It's what I do best."

Tony flew up and fired a long blast into the swarm, creating a path to Stark Tower's main doors. Steve followed, walking backwards and deflecting more gunfire back into the crowd of aliens. They stopped a few feet from the entrance.

"And putting others down to make yourself feel better?" Steve questioned harshly.

"Are you talking about your mini music man?"

Steve did not answer; instead, he sidestepped a lunging alien and disarmed it, firing the weapon at several advancing aliens. Tony killed an alien that slipped past Steve, earning a glare from the man before they refocused on the enemy. Bodies slumped all around them, more stumbling over the prone creatures and firing from behind.

"You know, I don't think you're mad at me for letting the compact crooner in on your secret," Stark mused offhandedly. "I think you're mad at yourself for not telling him first. Why is that by the way?"

Tony fired into the crowd repeatedly. Steve elbowed an alien in the gut, then slammed his shield against its torso and sent him flying. The aliens moved in faster, crowding Steve and Tony closer to the doors.

"You really want to get into this now?" Steve asked as he held up his shield to ward off another round of bullets.

"Sure, why not? Dr. Phil at your service."

"Who?"

"And Grandpa strikes again."

Steve stumbled as an alien tackled him, taking a moment to get his legs back under him and, wrapping his arms around the enemy's back, flipping it over his shoulder. The alien collapsed onto the ground. Stark shook off two aliens, while Steve pulled a third one away and sliced the edge of his shield across its torso.

"Stark?" Steve asked tiredly. He took a deep breath, fending off more aliens with his shield.

"Still here," Tony answered grimly, shoving his metal-gloved fist directly into the face of an alien.

The aliens kept coming. Steve and Tony fought against the increasing number, determined to keep anymore from entering the building, all the while being forced back by the swarming enemy.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Temporal Exigency (7/8+epilogue)

...

The lights flickered and the room shook, the latest blast still resonating in the room and jarring Blaine from his thoughts. He lifted his head, squinting in the dimness as his eyes found the multiple dents in the doors.

The pounding on the doors came to an abrupt stop and Blaine scrambled clumsily to a crouch, breath caught in his lungs A shaft of light sliced through the room, the steel doors opening a mere few inches. It was enough for Blaine to see tall shadows flickering across the light and the tip of a weapon being jammed through the space. He heard restless movement and foreign voices as another weapon appeared, both working in tandem to widen the gap between the heavyset doors. The inner doors remained shut, for now.

Blaine crawled around Pepper's head and slid his hands under her shoulders.

"What's happening?" Pepper inquired groggily.

"They're coming," Blaine whispered.

"Tony?" she breathed hopefully.

Blaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to move you. Maybe we can hide in the conference room?"

Not waiting for Pepper's answer, Blaine held fast to her shoulders and lifted her torso. Pepper cried out.

"Sorry," Blaine apologized earnestly, though he did not stop. He turned her and slowly dragged her toward the neighboring room.

"No, it's okay," Pepper said, face tense. "There's a small office at the end of the room."

Blaine carefully navigated her through the conference room and to the dark alcove. Only one emergency light set low into the wall near the door aided his vision. He situated Pepper behind the desk, half under it when he rolled the chair out of the way. He chanced another look at the control room and the doors, where the aliens had made little progress in opening them further. Blaine let out a breath before returning to the office and shutting the door.

"There's-," Pepper started before visibly swallowing. "Bottom drawer."

Blaine pulled the drawer open and spied a small lockbox. He reached in, unlatched it, and pulled a large, black gun out. Heavier than he thought it would be, he fumbled with it and the two accompanying clips. Sitting next to Pepper, he set the items on the floor.

"Don't be scared," Pepper whispered tiredly, resting her hand on his knee. "We're going to be fine."

Blaine huffed wryly but smiled at her effort. He picked up a clip and slid it into place, the click as it locked sounded loud in the isolated room.

The silence was shattered when an explosion rocked the furniture and shook the walls, extinguishing the light and leaving them in complete darkness.

...

The doors rattled behind them and the ground trembled, causing Tony and Steve to stumble. The aliens were equally disrupted, but recovered quickly. Steve dodged one, turning in its wake and shouldering it to the ground. Tony resumed firing.

"Oh, son? Are you having a party while dad and dad are away?" Tony jested over the noise of battle. Steve gave him a stern look.

"What? Isn't that what you were thinking?"

Steve shook his head resignedly before turning his attention back to the still increasing number of enemies.

"Looks like you could use some help," Natasha said over the comm. Just then, a car skidded across the street, knocking everyone down as it went. A roar and a flash of red caught Steve's attention, and Bruce thundered through the mass of aliens, swiping here and there. Natasha and Clint followed, firing their weapons with precision.

"You offering?" Tony said, turning to fire at an alien attempting to sneak past them.

"To kick some ass?" Natasha shot back. "I think that's a given."

Bruce sent two aliens flying through the crowd, clearing a path. He, Clint, and Natasha steadily made their way to Tony and Steve, all the while fending off alien after alien.

"What's the situation?" Steve asked between ducking a shot and slamming his shield against several lunging aliens.

"Troops are holding on 34th Street and 8th Avenue. The north entrance is secure," Clint reported, eyes never leaving his targets.

"We've got to find out how many are inside," Steve said.

"Jarvis has been offline since the grid came down," Tony noted.

"Fury, can you get a read on who's inside?" Steve asked.

"Not who, but readings do indicate there are at least 700 individual heat signatures in the underground levels."

"A hundred of those are my people," Tony said.

"Six hundred then," Natasha surmised. "Piece of cake."

"Fury, move some of the troops to the south. Let's get this done," Steve ordered.

Before Fury could respond, Tony spoke up, "You handle this. I'm going in."

"Wait, Stark!" Steve called after the man who was already ducking into the doors. Bruce growled, slamming his fist down atop an alien.

"You go," Natasha directed with a tilt of her head. "We got this."

She fired into the crowd, hitting her marks in swift succession. Steve paused, assessing the situation. He spied the troops at the far end of the block and flung his shield out.

Once it was back in his hands and several more aliens lay on the ground, Steve spoke, "Thanks."

"We'll see you inside."

With a nod, Steve turned and ran into the building.

"Stark!" Steve yanked the stairwell door open to find the stairs collapsed and crumbling. He hastened to the elevators, doors open to reveal the dark shaft save the glow of thrusters and the glint of red and gold. Steve stepped back and leaped into the shaft, grabbing onto the cables and wrapping his legs around the thick cord. Sliding down easily, he made his way to sublevel one and struggled to stop. Gunfire and explosions reached his ears, muffled but echoing through the corridor. Steve tossed his shield onto the floor and climbed out of the elevator shaft.

When he caught up with Tony, he was surrounding by the enemy and nearly overpowered. Steve wrestled an alien away from the group, and taking possession of its weapon, shot down three more. Tony recovered and stepped back. Together, they felled several more aliens and pushed the crowd down the corridor until they found cover in an alcove in front of a locked door.

"Why do you always have to run off on your own?" Steve chastised breathlessly. Tony leaned out and sent several blasts down the corridor to keep the aliens at bay. Steve crouched and did the same with the alien weapon.

"Why do you care?"

Steve looked up at Tony before shaking his head again.

"I didn't tell Blaine because I didn't want him to be a part of this," Steve revealed.

"Why ever not, what with all the fun we have?" Tony joked.

"Haven't you just wanted something normal?" Steve asked, ignoring the other man's flippant tone and shooting down the hall again. "Something that isn't tainted by all this?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is you're not the only one with someone in here."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Tony goaded, stepping out from the alcove and firing with both hands. Steve stepped out beside him, hefting his shield in front of him.

"Apparently I'm going with your plan."

"Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?"

Steve and Tony jumped back into the fray, blazing a trail alien by alien. Just as the cracked and broken doors of the control room came into view, the shock of explosion shook the floor and knocked them to the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Temporal Exigency (8/8+epilogue)

...

Blaine took quick breaths, listening to the noises on the other side of the door-equipment crashing to the floor, furniture toppling, and gunfire. He held the gun loosely aimed at the door.

Blaine started when a particularly loud crash sounded, his heart jumping and breath hitching. Heavy footfalls approached, the skidding of wheeled conference chairs accompanying them. Blaine raised the gun, gripping tight against the shaking of his hands and despite the pain.

Just as Blaine was sure the aliens would discover them, several cries rose above the cacophony. Footsteps retreated quickly and the sounds of gunfire burst out again. Blaine let out a breath, dropping his arms.

His relief was short-lived, however, when a familiar voice cried out above the sounds of struggle.

"Stark!"

Blaine scrambled to the door, his hand freezing on the knob as he held his breath. He didn't hear Steve again, but the gunfire and scuffling increased. Taking a deep breath, Blaine turned the knob and inched the door open to peek out. Not seeing anyone in the conference room, he glanced back at Pepper's prone form and ducked out, shutting the door quietly behind him. Faint light slanted into the control room from the now open doors, and shadows darted and merged along the walls.

Staying low, Blaine crept along the wall, taking another breath and lifting the gun before peering around the doorframe of the conference room. Steve was near the control room doors, dressed in the uniform Blaine had seen in the picture, dodging aliens and deflecting bullets, knocking over the enemy and disarming them. Iron Man stood nearby, sending blasts from his suited arms as the aliens flooded the room.

"Well, Captain, I hate to admit it, but my plan might have a flaw."

"Might?" Steve shot back. "Where are they?"

"I got nothing. Suit's at 20%. I'm kind of focusing on the, you know, more immediate problem."

Blaine swallowed, taking in the two men fending off a continuing stream of aliens. Blaine wasn't sure if making his presence known would distract them or not, but was saved from making a decision when Steve let out a pained cry. Blaine's eyes widened as Steve heaved the alien he was struggling with off him and staggered, letting his shield slide from his hold and gripping at his side. The shield rolled a little ways before a careless kick sent it skidding his way.

Blaine glanced about the room. Iron Man was at the far end now, cornered by several aliens. The defensive beams from his suit were short and only pushed the aliens back for moments at a time. Steve managed to shove off another alien one-handed, dropping to his knees with another agonized cry. But more were coming.

Without further hesitation, Blaine tightened his grip around the gun, ran into the control room, grabbed the shield, and made a dash for where Steve had collapsed. As Blaine skidded to a halt in front of Steve, he raised the shield in front of both of them. Bullets ricocheted off the metal, nearly collapsing Blaine with the force of impact.

Just as another round of shots started, strong arms came around Blaine, taking the weight of the shield from his hands.

"Steve," Blaine breathed out, relieved, though he dare not turn his attention to the other man.

"Get behind me," Steve directed, voice thin and breathless, just as the gunfire stopped. Blaine ducked under Steve's arm and did as told. He didn't miss the tear in Steve's uniform side and the blood seeping slowly out. Steve slashed the shield across the torso of an oncoming alien and punched another in the gut. "Where's Pepper?"

"Office off the conference room," Blaine answered steadily, though the gun shook in his hands as he looked around Steve's arm at the enemy.

"Stark," Steve called out, fending off another alien.

"Busy," Tony called back, though three aliens fell to the floor around him.

"I've got Blaine."

"Where's Pepper?" Tony sidestepped a lunging alien and shoved his gloved fist into the base of its spine.

"Office. How about that other way out?"

"Over here. Leads down to medical. But there's still power, and the hatch is still locked. I'm going to need to get into the panel. You think you can part with tiny tenor so he can help me out?"

Blaine scowled at the nickname, but moved from behind Steve. Steve's arm came back, stopping him short.

"Steve."

Steve sent a series of shots glancing off his shield and back at the enemy before he looked back, conflicted eyes catching Blaine's sure ones.

"Go," Steve said as he turned back to the enemy. Without another word, Steve surged forward and knocked three aliens down as Blaine darted across the room.

Tony was just tearing away the small panel cover when Blaine reached him. Tony flung his arm out and shot down an approaching alien.

"We need to disengage the lock while there's still power," Tony instructed as he continued to shoot. "Find the wire connected to the actuator, that's the-."

"The rod shaped thing with a box on the end?" Blaine cut in.

"Well, well, color me surprised," Tony said after a beat.

"What did you need me to do with the wire?" Blaine pressed, ignoring Tony's remark and sparing a glance at Steve, who sidestepped an alien and sent it stumbling back. Tony moved behind him, bullets pinging off the iron suit. Blaine flinched and ducked closer to the panel. He set the gun down between his feet and reached into the panel, plucking at the wires.

"Bypass the resistor. The surge should short the lock. I assume you know what the resistor looks like?"

"You assume correctly. Color me surprised," Blaine snarked.

Blaine worked quickly, doing his best to ignore the clamor around him. He made quick work of detaching the wires, disconnecting the resistor, and rethreading the wires together. With a step back, he touched the wire back to the actuator, generating a couple sparks before a loud click sounded. A larger panel unlatched, opening a few inches. Blaine pushed the door wide open. Tony glanced back.

"I'm going to regret saying this, but I think I'm going to like you." Tony turned back to the room and sent an arcing blast out, every alien collapsing at the impact, just as Steve came up to them, Pepper held carefully in his arms. "Power's almost up, Cap."

"Take Pepper," Steve ordered, quickly transferring the unconscious woman to Tony and facing the enemy again, "and Blaine. I'll hold them off."

With a curt nod, Tony ducked through the door.

"Blaine, go," Steve commanded. He flung his shield out, delivering a sharp blow to two aliens.

"You're coming too, right?"

Steve didn't answer right away; instead, he disarmed another alien, and shot it and another two aliens before breaking the weapon over a fourth's head. Blaine took up his gun, aiming it unsteadily at the oncoming aliens while still partially hidden behind Steve.

"I'm not letting them any closer to the infirmary," Steve explained. "Blaine, please go," Steve repeated, turning pleading eyes to him.

"Not without you."

Blaine almost relented under Steve's gaze, but a flicker at the corner of his vision caught his attention and in an instant, he took aim and fired the gun. The alien crumpled. There was no time for surprise or further debate as more aliens surged forward. Steve sent them steadily back and down, as Blaine tamped down his fear and discharged the occasional and well-aimed shot.

...

Blaine was out of bullets all too soon. He dodged an alien's lunge and delivered an uppercut, sending it staggering back. Blaine's hand stung from the impact, and he was sure he had broken something. Blaine turned just as Steve grabbed an alien from behind, narrowly avoiding the armored hands that threatened to kill him. Steve flung him into the other aliens.

A heavy crash sent Blaine tumbling against the wall. He and Steve ducked as debris rained down around them. A deafening roar echoed down the hall as the crashes continued.

Before the aliens could regain their footing, the hulk appeared in the doorway, swatting them away and bellowing menacingly. Natasha appeared behind him, her back to them as she shot down any stragglers. Still leaning against the wall, Blaine looked on wide-eyed as the aliens fell all around them. Steve stayed in front of Blaine, fending off the remaining aliens.

Soon enough, the room was quiet. Natasha climbed over bodies and into the room, patting Bruce's arm as she went. Bruce grunted.

"Good to see you, Cap," Natasha greeted, holstering her guns.

"Good to be seen," Steve acknowledged, tugging his mask off. "What's the situation up top?"

"Secure. Clint is overseeing things on the ground. Managed to shoot down one more ship, but the remaining two are retreating. Fury's got fighters pursuing."

"Stark?"

"With Pepper. Wanted to take off after the ships, but his boosters cut out on him two feet off the ground."

Bruce ambled forward, grumbling and peering over Steve's shoulder. Blaine stepped out from behind Steve and lifted his hand in a stilted wave.

"Stark said he didn't follow him through the access corridor," Natasha said, smirk tugging at her lips. "Glad to see you kept him safe."

Steve looked at Blaine then, the strain of the day clear on the younger man's face though Blaine attempted a smile.

"He held his own," Steve said quietly.

Bruce grumbled again, reaching out and scooping Blaine up, eliciting a startled cry from him.

"Apparently introductions are in order," Natasha said wryly.

"Hello," Blaine said hesitantly as he braced himself on Bruce's thumb. "I'm Blaine."

"Pretty boy," Bruce rumbled out, leaning in to get a closer look.

"Thanks," Blaine replied amusedly.

"He's taken," Natasha said with a chuckle, eyeing Steve.

Bruce huffed and frowned down at Natasha, but turned a grisly smile on Steve. He set Blaine down but before he could pull his large hand away, Blaine grabbed onto a finger. Bruce gave him a quizzical look.

"It's nice to meet you." Blaine smiled at the big, green man, who let out a pleased hum.

Bruce prodded Blaine's hands with a finger and growled out, "Hurt."

"It's not bad," Blaine replied lightly, though he hissed when Bruce turned his hand over.

"Looks like he's not the only one," Natasha noted, seeing Steve wince as he picked up his shield. "Let's get up to the infirmary," she added before anyone could protest.

Bruce grunted in assent and turned, ducking and barely fitting through the door. Blaine reached for Steve's hand, twining their fingers carefully though Steve tried to pull away. Natasha kindly averted her gaze and weaved her way around the prone bodies.

"That doesn't hurt?" Steve asked quietly as they followed Natasha.

"Don't let go," Blaine said in lieu of answering.

"Not until you ask me to," Steve uttered seriously. Blaine paused, looking at Steve.

"I don't think that's ever going to happen."

"Good," Steve said after a beat and gently tugged Blaine back on their way.


	9. Epilogue

Title: Temporal Exigency (epilogue)

A/N: Well, the epilogue turned into a monstrosity. But I just couldn't fit this into the general action-y arc of the main story. Also, the sequel Temporal Reprieve will be up in the next day or so. Thanks for reading.

...

Steve stood behind Blaine, no longer holding hands but still touching-his hand resting on the slight curve of Blaine's waist. They had been standing for several hours watching the medical personnel piece back together Pepper's insides. Though really, they had not been upright the whole time.

"Sir, I need to look at your hands," a nurse said to Blaine.

"I'm fine," Blaine dismissed, not looking away from the observation window.

"Sir, your burns are extensive. They could get infected," the nurse reasoned, sending a stern look at Steve, who had looked at her when she first spoke. Steve lifted their entwined hands, noticing Blaine's jaw clench, and carefully loosened his hold. When Blaine unsuccessfully tried to stifle his pained whine, Steve wrapped his other fingers around Blaine's wrist and soothed the tension from Blaine's fingers with soft strokes over the joints.

"Blaine," Steve breathed out sadly when he got a good look at the red and blistering skin along his fingers and palm, guilt filling his lungs with the air he breathed in. His eyes darted back up as Blaine finally turned away from the window, the other man's eyes filled with pain and fatigue.

"I'm fine," Blaine repeated, though his voice wavered. Steve leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Blaine's forehead, feeling Blaine's silent sigh.

"Come sit," he suggested, tugging gently on Blaine's wrist. "We should have that looked at." Blaine followed reluctantly, dropping into one of the chairs lining the back of the observation room. Steve sat and turned to the nurse, "You can check it here?"

"I'll get my things," the nurse answered with a nod. "And you," she added pointedly, "will need stitches." Steve grimaced but nodded. She left quietly.

The nurse returned holding a plastic tub, its various compartments filled with medical supplies, along with a small basin atop a tray. Settling on Blaine's other side, she proceeded to clean the burns as best she could. Applying a topical antibiotic had Blaine clenching his eyes shut and pressing his face into Steve's shoulder. Steve wrapped his arm securely around Blaine's shoulders.

"The doctor will take a look later," the nurse said, loosely wrapping gauze around Blaine's hands. "Don't touch anything," she advised.

Blaine nodded and stood, silently making his way back to the window.

"Up," the nurse instructed. Steve stood and waited patiently as she cut away his uniform and assessed the wound at his side, his eyes on Blaine's tense posture. "You'll live," she teased as she cleaned the injury. Seven stitches and a securely affixed bandage later, the nurse took her leave and Steve resumed his post next to Blaine as Pepper's surgery entered its third hour.

...

Clint and Natasha had come and gone in shifts. Bruce, looking rather small in blue scrubs, made an appearance, giving Steve an understanding look and a comforting squeeze of the shoulder when Blaine merely nodded at Bruce's introduction and lame attempt at levity.

Pepper's surgery lasted almost five hours. Stark, having stood inside the operating room, off to the side, dressed haphazardly in a gown and wearing gloves and a mask throughout the duration of the surgery, had emerged worn-looking but relieved.

The three men silently made their way to the post-operative room, standing around the bed where a still sedated Pepper lay. Steve kept his hand on Blaine's hip, wanting to pull him closer but Blaine's stiff posture convinced Steve such an action would be unwelcome.

"We haven't met, officially," Tony suddenly said, looking at Blaine.

"No, we haven't," Blaine agreed. "Who are you?"

Tony chuckled before shooting back, "Smartass."

Blaine actually smirked, albeit brief. Steve felt his own relief at the casual interaction between the two.

"Thank you," Tony said quietly after a moment. Steve looked at Tony, startled. He shifted his gaze to Blaine.

"For what?" Blaine asked.

Tony tilted his head toward Pepper, eyes still on Blaine. Blaine looked at Pepper's pale face.

"She's barely alive," Blaine protested weakly, lifting a hand to graze the back of a finger delicately along Pepper's arm, carefully avoiding the needles and tubes at her elbow.

"But she's alive."

Blaine looked up at Tony, something passing between them as Steve looked on. Suddenly, Tony blinked and snapped his fingers, the somber mood dissipating.

"We should get shawarma," Tony suggested. Steve hung his head, amusement turning the edges of his lips into a smile. Blaine huffed amusedly.

"Maybe later," came a weak reply. All eyes shifted to Pepper, her eyes barely open and her tongue slowly sweeping over dry lips. Tony wrapped a hand around hers and leaned in.

"Definitely later," he agreed. He kissed her tenderly on the lips, then on her cheek and temple.

"Blaine," she breathed out when Tony righted himself. Blaine offered a bracing smile. Despite her groggy state, she managed a weak smile. "Make sure he pays when you go out for shawarma."

Blaine's laugh sounded more incredulous than happy as he eyed Tony's put out expression.

"Sure," Tony agreed, feigning annoyance. "Anything you want."

"I do recall you saying you'd buy Blaine a bottle of red wine," Steve spoke up.

"I'll have my people drop something off," Tony replied with a wave.

"Make sure it's the 1982 Lafite-Rothschild Bordeaux," Blaine said.

"What do you know about Lafite-Rothschild?" Tony inquired suspiciously.

"I know the standard bottle goes for $4,000 and the three-liter magnum for $18,000," Blaine spouted smugly. "I'm good with either one."

"I take it back, I don't like you."

Tony and Blaine stared at each other, the former almost convincingly stifling his amusement while the latter continued to smirk.

...

"Can I go?" Blaine asked quietly, impatience edging his tone.

"Yes. I'm assuming you're staying here?" The doctor looked up from her chart to see Blaine looking at Steve, who nodded his head curtly. "Good. I need to see you tomorrow. We might need to debride those burns. I can't cast your broken fingers with those burns so be extra careful."

The doctor handed Steve a small pill bottle.

"Two every six hours. Call down if you're in a lot of pain."

"I'm fine," Blaine protested.

"You might still be hyped up on adrenaline," the doctor countered kindly. "There's no need to be a hero now, got it?"

Blaine didn't answer, just looked at his bandaged hands lying limply in his lap.

"I'll make sure he's back tomorrow, ma'am," Steve piped up.

"That's what I like to hear," she teased. "Take it easy, you two." With that, she was off to the next patient, shuffling her stack of clipboards as she went.

Steve wrapped his arm around Blaine's waist, helping him off the hospital bed much to Blaine's displeasure. But Blaine's glare morphed into panic when he legs wobbled. He grabbed onto Steve, the heavy, dirty uniform material under his fingers, and winced when his burned skin protested. Steve wanted to take a hold of him, Blaine could tell, so he steadied his hand against Steve's chest and straightened. Steve dutifully remained at his side, just his one arm supporting as Blaine started moving toward the exit. The elevator ride up to Steve's apartment was quiet and Blaine was barely standing by the time they arrived on Steve's floor, but he still shook off Steve's attempt to have him fully lean on him for support.

Blaine watched the door close slowly and when he turned, Steve was watching him with concern. Blaine's brain buzzed with questions and his body held onto the anxiety of the day, so much that he wasn't sure what to do now that he had made it to his destination.

As soon as Pepper had woken, Blaine had wanted nothing more than to get out of the infirmary. He had felt irritation and impatience crawling under his skin as the doctor assessed his burns and broken fingers, as the nurses redressed his wounds and carefully taped his fingers to a splint. He had wanted nothing but to be away from everything, but now that he was, he wasn't sure what he wanted. So, he silently watched Steve step closer, then stop, the distance between them small yet suddenly impassable.

"You should get cleaned up. Rest," Steve suggested. Blaine looked at his wrapped hands. "Right," Steve said, stepping closer than hesitating again.

"Steve," Blaine got out, his throat suddenly tight.

"Yes?" Steve asked uncertainly.

"I didn't say you could let go," Blaine whispered, desperation tingeing his words.

Steve was there in an instant, strong arms wrapping tightly around his torso, warmth enveloping him and calming his frayed nerves. Blaine tightened his arms around Steve's waist, ignoring the tugging ache in his hands.

Long moments ticked by, the two just holding each other in silence. Slowly, Blaine shifted, tilted his head up and pressed feather-light kisses to Steve's neck and jaw. Steve ran soothing hands over Blaine's back, feeling the tension return to the other man's shoulders. Blaine's kisses turned desperate, his lips dragging against Steve's rough cheek until he was pressing a hard kiss to Steve's lips. Blaine's fingers dug into the material covering Steve's shoulders and pulled at the sturdy uniform, scratching his gauze-wrapped fingers across the seams.

"Blaine," Steve said breathlessly. Blaine ignored him, continued to kiss him and claw at his uniform. "Blaine," Steve insisted. He tried to pull Blaine away, hands wrapped around a slender waist trying not to squeeze too hard, but Blaine whined in protest and surged closer, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck and slanting his lips against Steve's.

Steve slid his hands up Blaine's arms, cuffed Blaine's wrists with his fingers and slowly pried Blaine's hold away from him. Blaine craned his neck, sloppy kisses pressed to any part of Steve he could reach-jaw, chin, an ear when Steve turned his head. When Steve pulled Blaine's hands between them, the gauze was loose in places and spotted with red and yellow. Blaine finally stopped his assault, chest heaving as he stared at his hands. Steve's heart clenched at the sight, at Blaine looking so completely undone.

"Blaine," Steve whispered. The other man slowly shifted his gaze up, his eyes wide and shimmering. Steve loosened his hold on Blaine's wrists and gently lifted a hand. He kissed the damaged fingers reverently, soothed his thumb across Blaine's pulse point. He repeated his ministration on Blaine's other hand. When he was done, Steve lowered their hands and pressed his lips to Blaine's forehead and temple, tilted his cheek against Blaine's and felt Blaine lean in.

"I'm here," Steve breathed against Blaine's ear.

Blaine's breathing hitched, his chest still rising and falling quickly.

"I'm here," Steve repeated quietly.

Blaine fell against him, nearly collapsed into sturdy arms that quickly surrounded him again. He pressed his face against a strong, familiar shoulder, letting the steady rise and fall of Steve's chest soothe him and focusing on the strong heartbeat under his ear. They stayed like that for some time, Blaine's breathing synchronizing with Steve's and his eyes growing heavy. When Blaine's knees buckled, Steve's arms were there. He easily lifted Blaine, pressing another tender kiss to his mussed hair before carrying him through the dim apartment to the bathroom. Blaine's arms hung weakly around Steve's shoulders, his head never leaving its place against the crook of Steve's neck.

The light flickered on as Steve set Blaine down atop the counter, gently righting Blaine before he let go. With deft fingers, he helped Blaine out of his dirty and bloodstained shirt, and his sweaty undershirt. He undid Blaine's jeans, easily lifting Blaine to slide them off and leaving Blaine in only his underwear.

Steve turned the tap on, reaching over to grab a washcloth. As the water warmed, he caught Blaine looking at him with tired eyes.

"Take it off," Blaine said, his eyes traveling down to the uniform's emblazoned star before returning to Steve's face. "Please."

Steve nodded and made quick work of the uniform, leaving it piled atop Blaine's discarded clothing. When he returned to Blaine in only a soft, long-sleeved shirt and briefs, both a vibrant blue, Blaine managed a smile.

Steve soaked the towel in the now hot water and, with careful and gentle strokes, wiped the dirt and grime of the day from Blaine's skin. By the time he was done, Blaine was nearly asleep again, his body hunched and forehead resting against Steve's shoulder.

"Come on, love," Steve prodded, lifting Blaine's arms back around his neck and sliding his arms under and around the exhausted man. Blaine hummed, eyes closed and his lips brushing under Steve's jaw when Steve picked him up.

Steve set Blaine down on the bed, sliding the covers from under him as he lay him down.

"Don't let go," Blaine mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed and face relaxed, when Steve removed Blaine's arms from their hold and settled them carefully on the bed.

Steve kept his hand on Blaine's arm as he climbed over Blaine and settled beside him. Blaine rolled to his side, tugging Steve's arm over him. Steve came willingly, slotting their legs together and slipping his arm out of Blaine's grasp. Steve pulled the covers over them, carefully tucking the soft fabric around them, and slid his hand over Blaine's chest, pulling him closer.

"Don't let go," Blaine repeated, voice barely there yet still desperate.

Steve pressed a kiss to Blaine's shoulder and pulled him infinitely closer.

"Never," Steve promised sincerely, closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath. And just as the sun came up on a new day, Blaine's slow breathing and warm, familiar body lulled Steve into slumber.


End file.
